Unbalanced as you are and without your hands, it takes you a few seconds to adjust your knees and find a method and rhythm that keeps you upright and allows you to so ardently address our mutual desire.
You are panting heavily and saliva starts to drip from the corners of your mouth as you furiously bob your head back and forth, feeling the throbbing veins under the soft skin with your tongue. Every movement making your bare breasts gently bounce and the heat and wetness between your thighs increasing. You push forward hard with every stroke, forcing the head of my cock down into your throat, concentrating on not gagging then just your head back, pushing your tongue hard against the underside of my cock and sliding it from side to side as it nears the head, knowing that is the most sensitive part. Every minute or so, you slide your mouth completely off of it and licking and sucking up and down the sides and cupping each testicle in your mouth.
During one particularly intense series of thrusts, a small moan slips out. You hesitate for a split second, waiting for a castigating word or, much worse, losing the opportunity to finish. Instead with a smile you can hear, I say "You may moan, little one. It shows me how much you're enjoying yourself and feeds my, oh so typical, Dom ego."
With those words you drop all efforts at control and become a wanton and ravenous animal, hungrily devouring my cock, saliva dripping from it and down your chin, your moans loud and continuous, muffled by my stiff, fat, pulsing cock. Your jaw begins to ache and your thighs and abs are starting to scream with the effort.
You begin to realize that you're having to work harder to stay upright and then that I have been moving forward with almost imperceptible slowness. This causes my cock to go further down your throat with each push, making you gag slightly sometimes. But my lack of comment lets you know that I am not bothered and may even be pleased with it.
It finally occurs to you that this is more than just an opportunity to please me, that it is a challenge, a test. You know that I will not stop moving forward until you have satisfied my desire and that if you fall before that, you will have failed. Until now, it had not occurred to you how long this has gone on but now, jaw hurting and neck aching, you begin to wonder if something is wrong. What if you're not pleasing me? What if I'm not feeling the rush of pleasure that you, yourself, feel even through the pain?
The strain to stay upright increases and you fix your mind, determined to succeed, lightly grazing my cock with your teeth as you use each suck to pull you back up. You slide your tongue quickly back and forth almost wrapping it completely around the shaft as your move back and forth on it. Though you try to ignore it, your own desire increases and you feel the wetness between your legs cold as it begins to spread to your open thighs.
Finally, just as you are starting to feel yourself slip backwards frighteningly every time you move your head back, you hear me.... moan... groan... sigh.. all at once, a sound of pure ecstasy from deep in my chest and I thrust forward. Your eyes widen and you stiffen as you begin to fall backwards...
... until my hands catch you on either side of your head, holding tightly as my hips thrust rapidly. My cock now pushing deep into your throat and sliding almost all the way out while I straddle your thighs and pull your face onto me, your nose buried in my crotch. You feel the hard shaft swell slightly and warm even more as it begins to spasm and jerk and the first thick, hot, fluid fills your mouth. You have no time to swallow as it is shoved into your throat with the next thrust. Again and again, you feel it pump into your mouth. You swallow as much as you can but some leaks from your lips and down your chin. Then the thrusts slow and become less fierce. And finally I move back and hold your head until you are stable again, leaning forward in exhaustion. You feel the cuffs on your hands opened and then those on your ankles. Then my arms slide under your knees and back and I lift you in one slow, steady motion and carry you to the sofa. The leather feels cold under your bare skin but the support feels wonderful as you are now able to relax your muscles.
My warm hands touch you, firmly but gently. Placed for just a few second on your arm, your thigh, your stomach, your cheek, then slid a few inches and lifted away. The effect is calming and exciting at the same time. As you begin to relax, the touches become caresses and begin to move closer to your more sensitive areas. I continue without a word, without a sound, you can hear only your breath and your heart beating harder and faster as each stroke begins to make that part of you more sensitive and alive. With nothing but gentle pressure from my hands in the right places and direction, your arms are soon over your head, your legs spread wide, your left foot on the back of the couch, your right on the floor. You wish you could know my thoughts, wonder what I think of your naked and exposed body, hoping that I it excites or at least pleases me the way my touch excites you.
As your breath becomes ragged and heavy and you feel the wetness between your legs begin to spread like the warmth inside your body, my hands leave your body and only my fingers touch you. It feels like they are impossibly spread amongst your lips, your breasts and nipples, your thighs, the soft, warm, wet flesh exposed by your open legs. As my fingers slid and stroke you there, you fight to keep your hips still and yourself silent. Once, the very start of a nearly inaudible moan leaves your throat and I lean down, never slacking in my attention to your desires, and whisper, "Not yet, little one... soon... soon."
With these words, knowing you will be allowed release, you steel your will and pull your mind away from your physical being, determined to resist the sensations and remain beyond your needs. It is an arduous fight. How could I know exactly how long and how hard to pinch your nipple and how long to wait before doing it again? What told me the pattern you, yourself, use when pleasuring yourself, the exact pressure, the exact timing? You feel the flush of your skin that always precedes the crest of your bliss and struggle to keep yourself from passing that ultimate point when you hear... feel?... sense?... my voice in your ear, "Now, little one, for me."
You unclasp your hands, unaware until this moment that you had been squeezing them together so tightly that your fingernails were digging into the skin on the back of your hands, and free your mind and body from the wall of will you had built, allowing both to rush headlong and wild into the flood of pleasure bursting forth from every cell of your being. Your mouth opens and a long, impossibly loud, cry of pure ecstasy rings in your hears as you feel your stomach contract as if it is trying to expel every organ. Reflexively, your arms reach up and you make contact with, your hands gripping my shoulders and squeezing as your cry breaks and changes pitch and tone. Again and again, your hips writhing, your lungs heaving in a desperate cry for air and then emptied instantly, you feel the ripples of hot electricity tear through you, mind and body.
After what seemed like the third time, you realize that my fingers have never stopped their movements, two, three, four? inside you and my thumb stroking and teasing your clit. You wonder if you might lose consciousness and that, if you did, you'd not feel this torrent of release. You try to speak, to ask for mercy, to beg me to stop before you become lost in your pleasure but can only shake your head. That, though, is enough, my fingers slowly slip from within you, almost painfully as you're so intensely sensitive there. As you release your strangling grip on my shoulders, you wonder if the rest of your body is the same and are answered by a gentle caress on your hip... cheek... breast... arm, each causing you to jump, twitch, spasm. They continue, each touch becoming longer, less powerful, more calming.
You hear, above your panting and thundering heartbeat, the wet sound of suckling and then feel my fingers on your lips as I share your taste with you. You suck and lick my fingers hungrily, greedily, your mind still tumbling, unable to express your gratitude in any other way.
"No, little one, thank YOU."
